


What Are the Chances

by WhiteBlueJay



Series: New Beginnings [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Domestic Fluff, First Time, Good Peter Hale, Homecooked Meals, M/M, Oral Sex, Rimming, Sexuality Crisis, Sheriff Stilinski's Name is John, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-04
Updated: 2020-07-04
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:49:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25066441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhiteBlueJay/pseuds/WhiteBlueJay
Summary: John swore that Peter Hale was trying to mess with him. That had to be the reason because what else could explain all the flirting and home cooked meals?
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Peter Hale/Sheriff Stilinski
Series: New Beginnings [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1784269
Comments: 15
Kudos: 285





	What Are the Chances

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to have been a simple, short fluffy/angsty fic like the first part was. Instead it turned into this. All mistakes are 100% mine. Please enjoy.

“How does it feel to not have to host the pack meetings anymore?” Peter asked as he sat down on the patio chair next to John. This was the first gathering at the rebuilt Hale house with Stiles manning the grill and barking out orders for dinner preparations.

“I didn’t mind it,” John answered as he took a sip of his beer. “The extra space does help, though.” A dozen people in John’s modest sized living room made the walls feel like they were closing in; it was hard to keep everybody contained to one room.

“The neighbors, no doubt, ask less questions now.”

John agreed. His next door neighbor, Mrs. Wilkins, had a habit of keeping an eye on all who came and went in the neighborhood. She frequently accosted John with reports on any unusual behavior, usually as he was coming home from work.

“I hope you’re still going to keeping coming around. I quite enjoy talking to someone who is not still figuring his life out.”

“I don’t think Stiles would let me stay at home by myself when he could patrol my diet,” John replied, ignoring the second part of Peter’s statement.

“Well, if you ever feel too lazy to drive just let me know. I’d be more than happy to give you a ride,” Peter offered with a wink. John would take his offer at face value if not for the smirk that was plastered on Peter’s face. The flirtatious exchanges had been happening for some weeks now and he still was not sure how to react. John was uncomfortable with the realization that the advances were not as uncomfortable as he expected them to be. Seeing as Peter’s…intentions didn’t appear too aggressive the plan was to ignore those feelings and hope that they would go away.

“Thank you, I’ll take that into consideration,” John answered. They lapsed into a silence as the other members of the pack milled around in their own little groups. John let his own mind wonder, thinking over all his and Peter’s interactions. Peter’s every other sentence contained an innuendo, and John, for the life of him, couldn’t figure out if he should take them at face value.

“Everything alright?” Peter asked.

“Yes,” John answered a little too fast. “Everything is fine.”

“You look like you’re struggling with something. Anything I could help with?”

John shook his head in response.

“If you ever need an ear, I’m here to listen.”

“Noted,” John said, knowing that there was no way in hell he would ever confide this crisis to anybody, least of all Peter. And at this rate, he probably shouldn’t confide his awakened sexuality crisis to himself; better keep it locked up to not cause any trouble. It was really one of life’s more cruel pranks, this latent sexual identity issue; the werewolf surprise was bad enough. And yet here he was, progressively moving closer and closer to the age of retirement and thinking indecent thoughts about a man who literally committed murder. No, he needed to get a hold of himself. John was too old for this.

*

John never thought he would find himself arguing over something so mundane as sports with Peter of all people. Yet here they were, throwing insults and statistics at each other while the Astros and the Dodgers were playing in the background.

“Do I need to separate you guys?” Stiles interrupted, looking over at the two men from the kitchen. “The next door neighbors five miles away can hear you two.” The house was built in an open floor style, an architectural feature that John was sure should have been separated by a wall at this moment.

“Get some ear plugs if it bothers you so much,” Peter replied.

John sighed. “No, Stiles, we’re fine. If Peter could acknowledge the facts, then we wouldn’t be having the noise problem.”

“I’m willing to acknowledge one fact and that is that the Astros have only gotten this far by cheating.”

“Whether they are cheating or not, your team is still falling apart right before your eyes.”

“I’m sure if they weren’t being actively sabotaged, they would be doing just fine.”

“Holy shit, you guys, it’s just sports. It’s not that serious,” Stiles interjected before going back to prepping whatever he was fixing for dinner.

“That’s not what you were saying last week when your precious Yankees were being slaughtered,” Peter responded.

Stiles looked up with a huff. “Okay, that was a completely different situation, there was-”

“I honestly don’t care,” Peter interrupted.

“Why are you here?” Stiles asked with a glare.

“Please shut up before we’re kicked out of the house,” John muttered to the man sitting next to him. “I don’t want to miss a free home cooked meal.”

Earlier that day, Stiles had invited John over for dinner, knowing that since it was one of his rare days off, he would spend it by himself eating unapproved food. John was caught completely by surprise, however, when he walked into the house and saw Peter lounging on the couch, watching TV. Normally the man would keep a low profile unless required to attend the various pack functions.

“Take a picture, it will last longer,” Peter had said when John was caught staring from the doorway. He had ignored the jibe and gone over to the fridge to get himself something to drink and see what Stiles was up to. Finding him to be busy cooking and knowing that Derek wouldn’t be back for another hour he had given up and joined Peter on the couch. Starting any kind of conversation was at first considered out of the question. But after what Peter argued to be ‘questionable calls’ by the umpire John was roped into a lengthy and, according to Stiles, loud conversation.

The evening was still fresh on John’s mind the next morning, playing over and over again on a loop while he drove to work. He had concluded that even after knowing all the horrible things Peter had done prior to his resurrection, John did not find himself unsettled by being in his presence. If anything, he found himself growing more and more relaxed as last night’s dinner and conversations progressed. But John resolved himself to keep his guard up in whatever situation he found himself to be with the man, be it another pack get together or solving the next supernatural disaster. Because no amount of redemption could erase the fact that Peter had was effectively a killer and had put his son’s life in danger multiple times.

*

John was in the middle of microwaving one of his many frozen meals when he was interrupted by the ringing of his doorbell. Considering that he usually didn’t have many visitors, and Stiles had a house key to get in, seeing Peter standing on his doorstep was surprising.

“Uh, can I help you?” John asked after a moment of gawking.  
Peter smiled and held up a tote bag full of something. “The division series is on right now, but Stiles is commandeering the living room TV tonight. I figured you’d probably be watching and would enjoy food that was not of the prepackaged variety,” he explained.

“Right.”

John didn’t need to be an investigator to spot an obvious lie. Stiles had texted him not even ten minutes ago, trash talking the Dodgers who were supposed to play the Yankees. Nevertheless, John let Peter come in, mostly because he was curious about the food that was apparently in the bag, and not for any other reason.  
John locked the door after Peter and followed the other man into the kitchen.

“I noticed you generally prefer meat and potatoes type of meals, so I figured I didn’t need to get too creative” he said as he started to unpack the containers out of the bag. John thought his eyebrows would join his hairline when he saw that the containers contained a porterhouse steak, loaded baked potatoes, and a green salad.

“Did you cook this?” he asked after wracking his brain for something to say.

“Yes,” Peter replied. “I don’t cook that often, but I don’t particularly like the takeout options in this town. I thought you might enjoy eating something not fully approved by the American Heart Association.” He gave John a smirk and stated rooting around the cabinets in search of plates.

“Top right one by the stove,” John said after he regained his ability to speak. “Thank you, by the way.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” Peter replied with a sly smile. “Not until you have a taste.”

There it was again, the innuendos. But this was still not significant, and it didn’t mean anything. At least that’s what John kept telling himself. It was not unusual for two guys to get together and watch sports and share food. It was perfectly normal. Just as normal as it was to let out an embarrassing sound that bordered on a pornographic moan after taking a bite of a steak that was probably the best he had ever eaten. Yeah, there was nothing weird about that.

*

“So, how did your dinner date go with Peter last night?” Stiles asked as he plopped himself down in the booth opposite of John who was fixing to dig into his burger. John had impulsively decided to have lunch at the diner near the police station, naively thinking that it was unlikely for him to be disturbed. “I was driving by and saw your cruiser in the parking lot, figured you weren’t here for their salads,” Stiles explained as he stole one of the fries from John’s plate.

“I had a banana for breakfast this morning,” John replied and smacked Stiles’ hand as it went for another fry. “And it wasn’t a dinner date.”

“You’re right, it was more of an ESPN tryst.”

“Don’t you have somewhere else you need to be?”

“Nah,” Stiles answered as he grabbed one of the laminated, slightly sticky menus sitting on the table. “Derek doesn’t get off until seven, so I have to find someone else to bother until then.”  
John took a sip of his water and innocently asked, “Speaking of Derek, when are you going to finally admit that you’re interested in him as more than just a roommate?”

Stiles narrowed his eyes and stole another fry out of spite. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

John hummed in reply. “I’m sure.”

“I’m serious.”

“I know.”

They stared at each other in stubborn silence until Stiles sighed and proceeded to flag the waitress down. After ordering food for himself – and waiting until they were left alone – he spoke up. “Derek is a … great friend, you’re well aware of all the things he had ever done for me. And we haven’t killed each yet, which is a big plus when living with me. But I just…” Stiles trailed off and started fiddling with the straw wrapper that sat next to John’s drink on the table. “Life is good right now, you know. Why rock the boat?”

John took a moment to really look at Stiles and, not for the first time, noticed that behind the jokes and the smiles he could see the same yearning look he always wore when he really liked someone. First it was Aladdin, then it was that Martin girl from school, and now it seemed it was Derek’s turn. His kid just had to wear his heart on his sleeve. After a beat of silence, he cleared his throat and added, “For what it’s worth, rocking the boat is not always a bad decision.”

*

John had been sitting at the table for a few minutes, looking over the menu, when he heard Peter take a seat across from him.

“I hope I haven’t kept you waiting long.”

“No, I just got here,” John replied.

Although baseball season was officially over Peter still insisted on spending time with John outside of the required pack meetings. John found that a little odd, but he couldn’t find the power to put an end to Peter’s schemes. It helped that oblivion was still the name of the game regarding whatever it was that was going on with them. This time around, Peter had texted him earlier in the day telling John to meet him over at the little Italian restaurant over in the downtown area of Beacon Hills. Normally, Peter would bring himself over with some food, mostly home cooked, and they would watch whatever game was on TV before going their separate ways for the night. A voice in the back of John’s mind supplied that this looked a little too intimate to be a regular hang out for two guys. But John quickly stopped himself before going any further down that loophole; he needed to get himself together before Peter started suspecting anything out of the ordinary.

John let his eyes glance over at Peter who was busy with his own menu. No, this couldn’t possibly be a date, he thought to himself. There would have been more signs and - and Peter would have at least asked him properly. Or maybe not. He wasn’t actually sure how these things went between men. Was he supposed to ask? He was older. And now he was debating the proper homosexual dating etiquette. Great.

“May I recommend the Chicken and Broccoli Alfredo.”

John snapped out of his reverie and looked up from where he was blankly staring at his menu.

“You looked like you were struggling,” Peter answered. “You liked the chicken and broccoli alfredo that I fixed last week. This place does a fairly good recreation of the recipe, not as good as mine, of course.”

“Of course.”

They lapsed into a silence. John let his eyes wonder around the restaurant before looping around to focus on the source of his inner turmoil who, unsurprisingly, was also watching him closely with a contemplative look in his eyes.

“You seem nervous, sheriff.”

“What is there to be nervous about?” Aside from the potential meaning of this dinner, he thought to himself.

“Absolutely nothing,” Peter answered and let their conversation drop when the waiter came by to take their order. Not having paid any attention to what was on the menu, John just went with Peter’s suggestion – feeling a little embarrassed when he noticed Peter sporting a smug smile. He helped himself to one of the bread sticks that was brought to the table in an attempt to get a hold of himself – he couldn’t say anything cringe worthy if his mouth was too full to speak. Or would it look like an innuendo since these breadsticks looked so phallic. Jesus Christ, he thought to himself as he tore the breadstick into bite size pieces.

Peter rattled off his own order and waited for the waiter to leave before speaking again. “I guess we will have to find something else to talk now that our favorite rivalry has been put on hold. What new subject should we chose?”

“We could always talk about the weather,” John suggested.

“Not the worst subject to start on. And if we get bored, we can always move on to personal trauma; I’m sure we can bond over dead spouses.”

John stopped chewing and tried, unsuccessfully, to formulate a response.

“It was a joke,” Peter tried to explain with a short, humorless laugh. “Probably in poor taste, going by the look on your face.”

John nodded with a tight smile. The silence that fell between them became awkward, and John was afraid that it would remain that way until the evening came to an end. However, after deciding to not take Peter’s attempt at humor seriously, John cleared his throat. “I don’t think you’ve ever talked about what it is you do all day; do you work?”

“Not really a need for that, I’m afraid,” he answered, alluding to the money both he and Derek got after the fire. “Before all…that I usually just stayed at home with the kids, I found it was easier to deal with them than the adults.”

John felt himself get caught by surprise. Peter didn’t particularly look like the best babysitter, didn’t sound like one either going by the words that came out of his mouth on a regular basis.

“What, you don’t think I’d be good with kids?”

John shook his head. “I’m not sure, I’ve never seen you interact with anybody younger than sixteen.”

“Well I was the favorite adult of the whole household back in the day. Ask Derek, he’ll tell you all about it.”

“Do you really want to advertise that you were popular among children? Especially in this day and age.”

“Not when you put it like that, I don’t,” Peter answered with an unimpressed look.

“You could become a teacher if you wanted to, you’d gain more popularity than you have at home now,” John suggested after a moment of thought.

“I’ve thought about it. But that would require me to go back to college and actually try to apply myself.”  
"But you have the money and the time, this makes laziness your only excuse.”

“It’s not laziness if I’m avoiding this because it would require me to learn how to deal with the parents and other dimwitted adults. When I babysat my nieces and nephews I could always yell at the parents if they were doing something stupid. I don’t think that would go over well in this scenario.”

“Yeah, probably not.”

*

Walking out of the restaurant John was surprised to see Peter follow him out to the cruiser. With every passing step, the thought of this being a date grew more and more convincing. But John didn’t find himself necessarily disgusted with the idea. Aesthetically speaking Peter was not bad looking. He had handsome features and a somewhat charming personality, once you got over all the other issues, of course. But the other issues were the size of a mountain – a mountain that a person could easily get hung up on. And that person was John. He was hung up on all the other issues that was Peter Hale.

“I don’t know about you, but I had a great time,” Peter said as they stopped at John’s car.

John hummed in agreement as he dug around his pocket in search of his keys. He froze when Peter stepped into his personal space and slowly leaned in until their lips met for a brief and chaste kiss.

Smiling, Peter took a step back and said, “Have a good night.” And then turned around and headed toward his own car at the other side of the parking lot.

John stood frozen in his tracks, trying to process what the hell had just happened. But he willed himself to push all his emotions down and got into his car. He just needed to get home and go to sleep; he’d deal with whatever this was in the morning.

*

Waking up the next morning, John groaned as he was accosted by the memories of the night before. He went out on a date with Peter. And they kissed and-and it wasn’t all that bad. He kissed a man for the first time in his life and he didn’t have any feelings of regret or disgust. Oh, Lord, he was too old to go through a sexual awakening.

How did he not see this coming? In retrospect, this date was so obvious. He was invited to have dinner with Peter at what the local newspaper deemed ‘the most romantic spot in town.’ Their table had a lit candle on it and Peter even picked up the check, saying that it was ‘his treat’ for all the times they had to have a pack meeting at John’s house. But now that he was thinking about it there were other signs. There were so many other signs.

Jesus Christ.

The food. There was so much food. Every time Peter had come over to his house, he always brought food. Homecooked food. At the beginning Peter himself had said that he rarely ever cooked – which, at the time, was completely believable. How was John supposed to know the frequency of his cooking habits? But Peter kept coming over. What was supposed to have been a one off get-together soon turned into weekly gatherings and then multiple times a week gathering. Gatherings that included one of John’s favorite past times and delicious food. Gatherings that never included a third person.

With a sigh, John got up from his bed and headed over to the shower. Aside from his own conflicting emotions and revelations, he knew that Peter was a complicated person, and that was putting it lightly. And there were so many reasons why even being friends with the man was a bad idea. But then again John wasn’t exactly a walk in the park either. Being involved in the supernatural business often saw him commit questionable acts that tended to skate on the wrong side of the law. John had lost count how many times his involvement indirectly and directly resulted in the death of different supernatural creatures – and no matter how many times he was reassured of all the harm they had managed to cause, it was always difficult to justify his actions. He was horrified to realize just how quickly he became okay with falsifying reports to keep his son and the rest of the pack undetected or help set up a trap, but it was all for the greater good and a lesser evil than the deaths of innocent people. At least that’s what he kept telling himself.

As he began to undress while still deep in thought, John happened to glance at his reflection in the mirror. The image that stared back at him was not all that bad, in his opinion, given how inactive he had been as of late. A lack of self-confidence was never an issue for John, even after he had developed a layer of insulation around the middle caused by Stiles’ arrival into the world. He had nothing on Peter, of course. The few times he had seen the man shirtless right before shifting was quite an image – and he wasn’t going to lie, it did make him buy that set of dumbbells that now collected dust in the corner of his room. But whatever their physical differences were, John was not going to let himself fall into the shadow of insecurity. If Peter couldn’t handle what was under John’s clothes, then that was his own problem.

He grimaced as he turned on the shower, making sure the temperature would be cold, and stepped under the spray. It was too soon to be mentally jumping into bed with another man, not when there were so many things still left unanswered and gray. He wasn’t even sure if he was comfortable with the idea of doing anything sexual with another man. Why did he have to go through this kind of crisis so late in life? Did he not have enough problems already?

His washing was methodical, the whole time spent deep in thought. There were so many questions left unanswered, especially after the dinner, that needed the participation of the other party. But John wasn’t sure if he needed to be the one to contact Peter or if he just needed to wait until Peter came sauntering back to his house as per usual.

He couldn't find the strength to call Peter to talk, texting suffered from the same problem. In the end he decided to just sit this one out, let Peter come to him about whatever this was that he was playing at. He was the one who had started it, he needed to be the one to end it.

*

“I think I was on a date with Peter,” John stated.

“No shit,” Stiles replied, looking completely unfazed.

“You’re not surprised?”

“Why would I be surprised?” he asked as he took another bite of his burger. “I told you what Peter was trying to do from the beginning. Does the phrase ‘ESPN tryst’ ring a bell?”

“I thought you were trying to mess with me," John said before stopping in his tracks. "Wait. How long ago was the ‘beginning’?”

“When I came home from work to find him using the kitchen for the first time,” Stiles answered. “Let me tell you, I was excited at the prospect of having somebody actually cook for me. Not that nobody ever cooks for me; Derek still likes to do all that meal prepping on Sunday. But like I have never been surprised with a homecooked meal just in the middle of the day…wait, no, that’s wrong too. Derek has made me breakfast multiple times after…you know what? It’s not important. The point is, Peter has never cooked for either me or Derek. And then he threatened bodily harm if either of us touched the food.”

John nodded, feeling a little dazed.

“At least he’s not murdering anyone anymore,” Stiles said with a wince.

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

“Well, I mean, that little tidbit is important. I think you would have a hard time getting re-elected if your boyfriend ran around killing people. Actively that is.”

“He’s not my boyfriend.”

“Not yet, you mean.”

“Thank you, Stiles,” John said with an unimpressed look.

*

“We need to talk,” John said when he finally laid his eyes on Peter.

After that fateful dinner, John was half afraid that it would open the door for Peter to come bother him at all hours of the day and night. But John had soon realized that they had effectively entered some type of radio silence. It was both a blessing and a curse. A blessing because it gave John some time to recuperate and sort through his sexuality crisis. It was a curse because it left him hanging in the unknown and debating whether he had been looking too deep into whatever this was. As much as Peter loved to play around and flirt, he never explicitly said what it was that he had wanted. And after a week of silence, and slowly going out of his mind, John decided that enough was enough and they needed to deal with this like adults.

Not knowing where else to start he decided to go for the Hale house. After getting word from Stiles that Peter was home alone John quickly jumped into his car and headed in that direction. The drive was nerve wracking to the point that he wanted to turn back around and go home multiple times. But he was determined to get to the bottom of this was and if it turned out that John’s thinking had been erroneous then…well, he’d cross that bridge when he got there.

When he had gotten to the house, he had quickly found Peter to be busy on his laptop in the den. John had stood frozen for a moment, staring intently at the other man, before taking a seat in one of the accent chairs closest to the door, making sure he had a quick getaway in case he needed to leave.

“So, I see you have found me,” Peter said, seeming abnormally uneasy. His body language caught John by surprise, he wasn’t used to seeing the other man anything other than completely confident. But even as his instincts screamed at him to turn around and go home he resolved to stay where he was and to get this awkward conversation out of the way – this way, if John was wrong, they could just move on with their lives and put all the embarrassment behind them.

John cleared his throat and looked down at his hands, trying to work himself up to ripping the bandage off. But he must have taken too long to find his words because Peter beat him to the punch.

“I guess you’re here about the dinner last Friday night,” Peter said as he closed his laptop and moved it to the end table next to the couch.

John nodded. “I just, uh, had some questions about…it.”

“What do you want to know?”

Prior to coming to the house John had prepared a string of coherent sounding questions he wanted answered, but that was not what stuttered out of his mouth. “Well, you know, the thing after eating.” Peter raised an eyebrow. “In the parking lot after…the, you know, the thing that you did.”

“You mean me kissing you after dinner in the parking lot?” Peter clarified.

“Yes.”

Peter let out a sigh before putting on one of teasing smiles. “While it wasn’t my original intention of kissing you after the first official dinner, I just simply could not help myself. What can I say? I have a weakness for men in uniform. But,” he added with a more serious tone, “I know that we never discussed what it was that each of us was looking for, and I do apologize for not asking if you were okay with such displays of affection.”

“It would have been nice to talk about it first,” John admitted.

“And I am sorry for not being forward with my intentions,” Peter apologized. “Although, in the beginning it was genuinely just lighthearted flirting, so to speak.”

“I didn’t even know you were interested in men.”

“I didn’t think I needed to publicly announce who all I found myself attracted to.”

“That’s not what I meant,” John disagreed.

“It’s okay, I know what you meant. In all fairness, I thought you only attracted to women at first as well. But I do have an unfair advantage over you in that regard, I think that’s why I continued doing what I did.”

John was confused for a moment before quickly realizing that Peter meant his sense of smell. The feeling of incredible embarrassment quickly overtook John; his well hid feelings were apparently on full display this whole time.

“Before you get buried in your thoughts just know this, I wouldn’t have pursued if I did not share your feelings. I don’t make a habit of playing with people in that way.”

“Good to know.”

“But considering your lack of experience with men and your one and only darling son living in this house I did my best to tone down my advances.”

“You constantly made sexual innuendos,” John stated dryly.

“Yes, but I didn’t act on them,” Peter answered with a smirk.

John nodded and looked away. “What now?” John asked after a minute of silence.

“That depends on what it is you want.”

“Well,” John said as he started drumming his fingers on the hand rest of the chair, “I’m not really sure, to be honest. All of this is…new and I haven’t been with anybody in a serious way in a long time. But if you’re interested, I would not be opposed to the idea.”

Seconds ticked by but the other man stayed quiet. John looked back over at Peter and was surprised to see him openly staring with a contemplating look. “You still want to have a relationship with me even after knowing everything that I have done?”

“Putting it like that doesn’t help,” John admitted. “But my hands aren’t exactly clean, either.”

“Aren’t you worried that I might go off the rails again? Become the monster all the adults try to warn their kids about?”

“Are you planning on going off the rails again?”

“I didn’t plan to go off them the first time.”

“You can just tell me if you’re not interested,” John said as the feelings of disappointment started to creep in.

“That’s not what I said.”

“It sounds an awful lot like you’re trying to talk me out of this.”

“I just want you to be able to make an informed decision. Right now, you may not lose any sleep over my past actions, but I don’t want it to become the source of resentment down the road. I know you’ll be worried about how Stiles will react to such news, I’m not naïve enough to think that you would pick me over your son. There’s a lot of things to consider.”

John sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

“And I know that I was the one to effectively start courting you,” Peter continued. “But aside the lack of labels, we could both, right now, walk away without a second thought.”

“Are you saying we won’t be able to walk away from each other later?” John asked.

“No, but relationships make the experience more difficult.” Peter suddenly stood up, picked up a spray bottle, and walked over to one of the windows before busing himself with spraying one of the many potted plants on the windowsill. “When I started all the cooking and coming over to your house, I never actually believed that you would want anything other than a cautious friendship, built more for the sake of working together than actual interest. My own selfish reasons caused me to kiss you, impulsively, after that dinner. After I got into my car, I had a bit of a freak out, being half afraid that my behavior would result in a restraining order. I managed to calm myself down after I got back home, but I decided against contacting you, wanting to leave the ball in your field.”

“I thought you had avoided me because you regretted it.” John got up and slowly made his way to where Peter was standing, making sure to leave enough room in between them.

Peter turned around and gave John a small smile that was devoid of his usual arrogance. “Far from it.”

John put his hands in his pockets and looked down at his shoes. “I was wondering,” he started and looked back up and Peter. “Since you have been effectively feeding me for months and now you’ve taken me out to dinner, I think it would be only fair if I got to take you out somewhere.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yes,” John answered as he took a few steps forward until he was standing a couple of feet in front of Peter.

“Where will you take me?”

“It’s a surprise.”

“Liar.”

“Okay, I don’t know yet, I didn’t think I would get this far. But I’ll figure something out.”

“I’m sure you will.”

Deciding to take initiative, John grasped Peter’s shoulder and pulled him until there was no gap left between them. The kiss was slow and exploratory, each trying to gauge the other’s reaction now that there was no fear of violent rejection. John initially kept his eyes open, watching Peter, who was doing the same. But after a moment he sighed and closed his eyes, moving his other hand to cradle Peter’s jaw.

“No regrets yet?” Peter asked after they separated.

John shook his head and smiled at the other man. “No regrets.”

“Good,” Peter said as he untangled himself away from John. “And just so you know, I usually put out on the second date.”

John felt his face start to flush. “Do you now?”

Peter hummed as he set the spray bottle down, after walking away, and deposited himself back down on the couch. He then picked up his laptop and perched his feet onto the coffee table before looking over at where John was still awkwardly standing. “You might as well get comfortable; I’ll get dinner started in the next half an hour.”

John nodded. “I’ll just run home for a quick shower and a change of clothes.”

“Why do you need to drive all the way home and back? The showers here work perfectly well and you can fit into my clothes, I’m sure.”

“Oh, alright then.”

*

John was skipping through the channels on the TV after being banished from the kitchen by Peter as Stiles and Derek walked into the house. Stiles always insisted on picking Derek up after every 48 hour shift at the fire station, claiming that sleep deprivation put him at a greater risk of getting into a car accident. Derek had tried to argue in the beginning, but even that didn’t last long – nothing could stand against Stiles’ stubbornness.

“That looks like a lot of food,” Stiles said as he surveyed the contents splayed on the kitchen counter and the stove. “Are you trying to fatten my dad up for your own sick fantasy?”

Peter let out an exasperated breath. “Calm down, the food is for everybody in this house.”

Stiles gasped dramatically and clutched at his chest as he let himself fall back into Derek. “Did you hear that? We’re finally allowed to touch the food. I thought this day would never come.”

Derek rolled his eyes and pushed at Stiles until he was standing on his feet again. “What’s the occasion?”

“Do I have to have an occasion?”

“Considering how aggressively you act when either one of us comes near your precious food, I’m sure it’s life or death,” Stiles said as he joined his dad on the couch.

“You are being melodramatic.”

“Melodramatic my ass – I very clearly remember you throwing utensils at me when I got too close to that lemon meringue pie,” Stiles retorted.

“You were going to ruin it.”

“By looking at it?”

“Your definition of looking involves touching and tasting.”

Stiles sniffed and got his phone out of his pocket. “I can neither confirm nor deny that.”

“You must be feeling very generous today,” Derek said as he passed toward the stairs to change out of his work clothes.

“Oh, believe me, I am,” Peter answered as he trained his gaze onto John, who was trying to ignore the other man in favor of blindly watching the TV screen.

“Real serious vibes coming from you guys today,” Stiles muttered without looking up from whatever he was playing on his phone.

John glared at his son until he lifted his head up, looking far too innocent. After a moment of maintaining eye contact, Stiles rolled his eyes and shoved his phone into his pant pocket before getting up. “Fine, fine. I’ll go get washed up too. Just try not dirty up my kitchen, Peter.”

“I won’t do anything you wouldn’t do with my nephew, Stiles,” Peter said with a smirk.

Stiles glared as his face flushed bright red. “I don’t like you.”

“I don’t care.”

He left with a huff and continued grumbling under his breath all the way up the stairs.

“Are they?” John asked after he made sure his son was far enough away to not hear.

“Are they what?”

“You know…”

“Fucking?” Peter finished as he went back to preparing their meal.

John winced at the wording. “I was going to say together.”

Peter chuckled. “No, unfortunately my nephew hasn’t gotten his head out of his ass to do either of those things.”

John raised an eyebrow. Peter sighed. “It may come as a surprise for you, but I’m actually rooting for the two of them.”

“That makes the two of us. At one time I had wondered if something had gone on back when Stiles was in high school.”

“As much as my nephew liked to hang out with teenagers back in the day, jailbait was never his type.”

“Yeah, but when Stiles is determined, it’s hard to say no to him.”

“That is very true,” Peter agreed. “But what made you suspicious in the first place?”

“You mean aside from witnessing Derek sneak into my son’s bedroom at various hours of the day and night?”

“It’s like he was trying to get caught by the hunters,” Peter muttered,

“Stiles’ behavior also didn’t help his case, he talked about Derek almost nonstop, I swear he was obsessed with him. Always asking about the case on the fire or commenting about this or that. It’s usually one of the first signs of him being interested in a person.”

“What did you do about your suspicion?”

“Ignored it, for the most part. Back in those days I was so deep in denial that even the most obvious things slipped right past me. I missed my son literally coming out to me outside of a gay bar; even though he later played it up as a pretense.”

“Don’t be too hard on yourself. I too don’t pay attention to most of his rambling.”

“But I’m his dad. I’m supposed to pay attention to every detail.”

“You figured it out in the end.”

“Yeah, but at what cost? Years of not really speaking to each other, no trust, constant lies. Granted I know now that a good portion of it was because of the supernatural things, but I could have been more attentive. What would have happened if I had paid more attention to my son?” John let his head drop on the back of the couch and closed his eyes as he let out a big breath. “I just sometimes feel like I failed as a father, I should have done a better job.”

Peter sighed and looked over at John with an unimpressed look. “Please don’t ruin this family dinner with your regret spiral, Stiles has obviously gotten over it and so should you.”

John bit back an angry retort in favor of sitting back up and concentrating on whatever was playing on the TV screen. Peter was right, of course, much to his chagrin. He and Stiles had long ago mended their relationship once the entire truth had come out, both had made their apologies and forgiven each other instantly. But John still felt the guilt that any parent would have in a situation such as this and he could not, for whatever reason, forgive himself for those mistakes.

“I’m sorry,” Peter said after a few minutes of nothing but the sound of the TV filling the room. “I shouldn’t have said that.” He laughed humorlessly to himself. “It’s not like I follow my own advice.”

“It’s alright,” John said. “It’s not like you’re wrong.”

They stayed silent and Peter went back to cooking while John got up to start getting all the plates and silverware out. By the time dinner came around they were back to bantering like nothing had happened, but the conversation still stayed on John's mind deep into the night.

*

Their first time was not as bad as John had been expecting – it wasn’t the best, but it wasn’t the worst. As any first time, it was filled with awkward body movements and hesitation, it really made John wish he had had a stiff drink beforehand. Coming into direct and intimate contact with another man had been initially daunting, but with Peter’s guidance and practice it didn’t take long for John to find his rhythm.

The worst parts about entering the honeymoon phase with Peter were the dirty thoughts, they were constant. John didn’t remember the last time he had been so obsessed with sex with another person and he found himself to be embarrassed by the inappropriate thoughts that would invade his mind at the most inopportune moments. Thoughts like giving head while on his way home from work or having Peter bent over his desk while working on a report in his office. And Peter, being a right bastard, found the whole thing amusing and contributed to John’s discomfort by sending him lewd texts, and on one pants tightening occasion, a picture.

“You really are a fast learner,” Peter commented breathlessly as John was busy between his legs one evening on the living room couch. John had come over to the pack house to find it completely deserted aside from Peter, who let him know that it would stay that way for a few hours. A few neck kisses, whispered dirty promises, and groping from had quickly turned into John sucking the life out of Peter through his cock. “Never thought you’d become such a fantastic cocksucker.”

John gave one more particularly hard suck before popping off and trailing up to meet Peter for a filthy kiss. He moaned when Peter made quick work of his pants and wrapped his hand around John’s cock, stroking him deftly as the kiss turned biting.

“Why don’t we go upstairs, and you can show me what else you’ve learned,” Peter whispered against his lips. John grinned and quickly got both of them up from the couch.

They stumbled up the stairs to Peter’s bedroom, neither one managing to keep their hands to themselves, and quickly divested themselves of their remaining clothes.

“Come here,” Peter said as he pulled John into another kiss and walked them backwards until they fell gracelessly onto the bed. It was not surprising to find that Peter was just as bossy in bed as he was out of it, he loved telling John exactly how he wanted to get fucked. But tonight, seeing as Peter had asked for a demonstration, it was John’s turn to have the ropes. Peter had barely had enough time to let out a noise of surprise as he was quickly flipped over and brought up to his knees.

They hadn’t done this a lot, and at first John had found it a little unsanitary. But after learning about Peter’s meticulous preparation and his own morbid curiosity, it didn’t take long for John to bite the bullet and go for it. Peter was incredibly sensitive, he was reduced to wanton moans and clawing at the sheets each time they did this. It was one of the hottest things John had ever witnessed and this time was no different.  
Peter’s ass was a work of art and John loved to worship it every chance he got. John spread Peter’s cheeks and bent down to lick a broad stripe across his hole and was rewarded with low groan from the other man. He stiffened his tongue to shallowly thrust in before going back to filthy, open mouthed kisses. The pace was always changing, never giving Peter enough time to get used to any one feeling. John continued licking as his thumb made its way up to where Peter was wet and wanting. He let his thumb spread the wetness around his hole, never letting it press into where it was needed the most, before letting his tongue flick against the quivering muscle. He loved seeing Peter like this, hearing him so wanting and desperate.

John took a moment to wet his own finger before gently slipping it in alongside his tongue. The moan that Peter produced went straight to John’s cock and he couldn’t help but to rub himself against the bed to ease some tension. He continued his ministrations, gently rubbing against that sweet little spot that made Peter’s gasp, and soon the other man felt loose enough to slip a second finger into.

“Just fuck me already,” Peter demanded as he shoved his hips back against John’s fingers.

The protests went over deaf ears. No matter how much Peter demanded or pleaded, John never gave into his urges until he was sure that the other man was ready. So, he ignored the demands and continued to worship Peter’s hole, continued to push the other man closer to his completion, because he refused for this experience to be anything but utterly pleasurable. He was right, of course, in continuing this preparation, adding another finger. No matter how many times they fucked, Peter was always tight, always needed the extra stretch, and tonight was no different. John let his fingers brush against Peter’s prostate again, just to hear his broken moan, as he stroked his cock and licked around his own fingers.

The wanton thrusting against his fingers combined with a string of threats from Peter made John decide that he had prepared the other man enough. Entering Peter was a religious experience every time; John groaned as he slid in all the way to the hilt. Normally, he would let Peter take the wheel and control the pace and strength of their thrusts, but tonight John was in charge, and he reminded Peter of that with a particularly hard thrust.

But Peter, not being one to submit so easily, suddenly overpowered John and flipped them over so that he was on top.

“I thought I was supposed to show you what all I had learned,” John said with a groan as Peter turned himself around until he was looking down at him and clenched. 

“Oh, you have shown me enough,” Peter answered as he ground against him, taking John’s hands and trailing them against his own torso. He quickly established a fast and brutal pace, moving his hips in such a way as to make John groan and thrust up on every downward stroke. But Peter wasn't having any of that. "You better not make me tie you up," he threatened. John groaned again at the thought. He had never been particularly fond of restraints, but the idea of being entirely at Peter's mercy was incredibly arousing. Peter smirked, knowing exactly what his statement had caused, before slowly grinding his hips in a circular motion. But John knew that he wasn't the only one effected, going by the seemingly involuntary sounds coming out of Peter's mouth. John did his best to stay still, but no amount of self-control could keep him from occasionally thrusting up and catching Peter by surprise.

Peter pulled at him until John found himself hovering on top in between the other man's legs. “Now fuck me like you really mean it,” Peter whispered against his lips.

John groaned and thrust into him with enough force for the bed to hit against the wall. Peter groaned and clenched, making John want to lose control with each passing second. John sat up and grabbed him by the hips, slowing down for a moment to grind deep into Peter before following up with another hard thrust before establishing a steady rhythm. Peter's hand flew up and grabbed John by the shoulder, dragging him down close enough to clash their mouths together as John continued fucking him in the earnest.

Peter sneaked his hand down to stroke himself, but John slapped his hand away to replace with his own, pumping in time with the thrusts. John sped up, feeling his release close by, and bit into Peter’s bottom lip as he came. Peter tensed up and let out a loud moan before releasing all over John's hand.

They stayed put for a moment, each one trying to catch their breath. John watched himself as he slowly pulled out, noticing how lewd and puffy Peter' hole looked. Not being able to control himself, he leaned down and started lapping at his own come that had started leaking out. Peter let out an undignified yelp at the unexpected touch which only spurred John on in his eagerness to reduce Peter to a complete mess. He finally let up after making sure that every drop had been cleaned up and kissed his way up to Peter’s mouth.

“Was that a satisfactory enough job for you, your highness?” John asked.

Peter laughed. “I suppose it was adequate enough.”

“That sounds like you will need further demonstrations.”

“I would definitely not be against that.”

*

He had come home from work to find Peter at the counter drinking what John would guess the werewolf equivalent of Jack Daniels. He looked a mess, his hair was unkempt and it looked like he had not even gotten out of his pajamas.

“Today would have been our ten year anniversary.”

John walked over to the counter and took a seat next to him.

“She has been gone for over a decade, but it feels like I just lost her,” Peter said in a slurred voice.

John took his hand in his and gently squeezed. “I’m sorry.”

Peter shook his head with tears sliding down his face. “I tried to find her. I could hear her screaming, but I couldn’t reach her.” He let out a choked sob and John felt a lump forming in his throat in response.

There were very few times in their relationship where John got to see Peter completely let his guard down and be anything other than the arrogant bastard he portrayed himself to be. He felt Peter’s grief like his own.

He stood up and took the glass of liquor out of Peter’s hands. Wordlessly, he gently pulled Peter up to his feet and started leading them to the living room couch. John didn’t want to try to navigate a drunk werewolf up the stairs to a bed, the couch would have to be big enough for the both of them - at least until Peter sobered up.

He divested himself of his gear, until he was down to his underwear and his plain grey shirt. He laid down on the couch and pulled Peter toward him until his back was flush against John’s chest. There were no words that he could say that would take away any of Peter’s pain away, his own experiences being a stark reminder of that fact. But he did his best of being there of him physically, providing comfort through his touch, knowing that it would still not take place of the presence of the people he had lost. Nevertheless, after some time, Peter’s chocked sobs turned into even breaths as he drifted off to sleep. John’s own thoughts could not be so easily turned off though, they continued running through his mind deep into the night. But, eventually, he too fell asleep and was roused in the morning when Peter had finally stirred.

John opened his eyes to find Peter slowly untangling himself and sitting up on the couch.

“Are you okay?” John asked as he himself sat up and rubbed at his eyes.

“Yeah,” Peter croaked in a sleepy voice. He rubbed at his face and got up, heading over to the bathroom. John sighed and sat up, trying to stretch away the stiffness brought on by sleeping on a couch, briefly regretting not trying hard enough to get them both into a bed that would have been more comfortable.

As John was busying himself with folding the blanket, he felt a pair of arms wrap themselves around his middle and a body press close to his back.

“Thank you,” Peter whispered, lips brushing against the back of John’s neck.

John let go of the blanket and placed his hands over the top of Peter’s before turning around in his embrace. He wrapped his arms around Peter’s shoulders and hugged him closer, burying his face in the other man’s neck. They stood that way for a little while, neither one speaking, until Peter slowly pulled away to gently kiss John.

“You hungry?” Peter asked. “I’ll make us some bacon and eggs.”

“Sounds good,” John replied. Peter still looked downtrodden and a little weary, his voice lacked its usual bravado. But as he started moving around the kitchen his body became a little more relaxed, his eyes a little less hopeless.

As Peter began making their breakfast, John helped by pulling out the dishes and utensils. Anytime he tried to intervene with the actual cooking he was quickly shooed away by the chef of the kitchen. And by the time they sat down to eat Peter was back to his usual self, for the most part.

*

John was looking through his sock drawer when he stumbled upon what looked like a small box in one of the socks. He had asked Peter to move in with him half a year ago after noticing that the man had already been practically living with him. By that point the house had already started accumulating parts of Peter’s things ranging from the books he was reading, different articles of clothing, and a lamp that had been exchanged for the original because he claimed it to be ‘a disgrace to society.’

Being too curious for his own good, John removed the box from the sock and frowned. It was an ordinary black box that looked awfully familiar to the one John gave to Claudia when he proposed to her all those years ago. Although Peter and John had agreed to be exclusive with each other they never went to further define where they wanted their relationship to take them. If this contained what he thought it would contain then that would mean… But it could also just be a memento, a reminder of the marriage that was. John still had his old ring sitting in the drawer of the bedside table. Granted he stopped wearing it when he started dating Peter, but he found it too painful to sell it or to stash it too far away.

Despite his better judgement, John opened the box and found a simple silver band lying inside. The ring did not contain any insignia or any clues pointing toward who the recipient was. It wasn’t small enough in size and was too masculine to look like it belonged to a woman. But he had never met Peter’s wife, maybe she had larger hands and preferred a different style of jewelry. The again, it could have also been Peter’s.

“Ah, I see you have found it then.”

John looked up at Peter with surprise; he though the other man had gone out on an errand and didn’t hear him come into the house. “I'm sorry. I didn’t mean to open it. I was just grabbing some clean clothes and it was right there.” John explained as he quickly closed the box and started trying to shove it back into the sock. But Peter walked up to him and gently removed the box out of John’s hands.

“I know we never talked about it. And to be honest, I don’t know your exact thoughts on matrimony,” Peter admitted before continuing.

"I'm not against it," John supplied helpfully.

"I'm glad."

"But I also never thought that you would ever want to get married."

“I didn't ever talk about it, did I," Peter said thoughtfully. "In the beginning I didn't think much of it, to be honest. We both have a lot of baggage, mine being of a more violent sort than yours. But with you I feel more grounded to the present; my nightmares don’t plague me like they normally do and for the first time in years I actually started looking forward to the future.”

“That makes the two of us,” John admitted quietly.

Peter opened the box and took out the ring. “I had a whole evening planned out, at least in my mind. I almost proposed on three separate occasions, but I never felt like the timing was right. Then again, there may never be a right time, but I guess this will have to do.”

“Please don’t get down on your knee,” John interrupted.

“Don’t worry, I wasn’t planning on it, I prefer being on my knees for other things other than this.” John rolled his eyes at the implication. Peter schooled his face again and looked straight into John’s eyes. “I didn’t think I would ever feel this intense kind of love for another person again, and I didn’t think I would deserve that kind of love myself – not after everything that I have done. I still don’t think I deserve any of this, but  
I’m too selfish to make you leave.”

“You’d have a hard time getting rid of me.” John gave a reassuring smile as Peter gazed at him with a hopeful look. Not being able to resist, John leaned in for a quick kiss, hoping to convey everything he needed without the use of words.

“Will you marry me?” Peter asked, his mouth brushing softly against John’s.

“Yes.”

They smiled at each other as Peter took John’s left hand and slid the band onto his ring finger. John grasped at Peter’s face with his other hand and brought him in for another tender kiss, unhurried and full of promises that neither one thought they would ever make again.

Was he a fool for accepting a proposal from a man who a decade ago had gone on a murder spree and was hell bent on revenge? Maybe. But he wasn’t exactly a saint either – god knew how much blood he had on his own hands. But they were both tired of living in the past and constantly remembering all the mistakes they had ever made. It was time to move on. It was time to start looking forward to the future.

**Author's Note:**

> I honestly don’t know how to feel about what I have written. Long ago, before ever joining AO3, when I was writing absolute Twilight trash on FanFiction, I had promised myself that I would never write smut. I believed in that promise even as I was writing the fist part of this series all those months ago. I started this story with that unwavering belief. And then one late, White Claw filled night I broke that promise. Side note, I do have more plans for this series, exploring both pairs individually. I am a slut for domesticity so you bet your ass there will be a kid fic or two coming up. Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed.


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